


Consequences

by AgateHearts



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Drama, Gen, Light Angst, Medical, Prequel, Young Guardians of the Whills in training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 11:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17807111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgateHearts/pseuds/AgateHearts
Summary: Baze was a genius with mechanical things. He flirted with danger in his tinkering, but he always got away with it, no matter how risky.Always.Or so Chirrut thought.





	Consequences

  
Baze Malbus was a genius with mechanical things.  
  
Everyone in the Temple knew it. That was why he got away with his little experiments; the golden boy, the scholar, whose restless hands and schematic-filled mind churned out ideas and refinements for a vast variety of processes and systems to make the Temple better, loved to play with weapons.  
  
He always got away with it with little more than a sigh and a slap on the wrist from the Masters.   
  
Always.

❊    ❊    ❊

“Are you going to see Baze?”  
  
Chirrut turned his head to Andri as they jogged up and fell into step next to him, a grin stretching wide across his face. “Always! Where is he? We haven’t sparred yet today, I need to change that.” He flipped his staff once exuberantly, grinning. “Can’t let yesterday’s defeat stand. Let’s see—“ The midday bell had rung some time ago, and Chirrut mused, “He’s in meditation right now, no better time—“  
  
Andri’s hand closing on his forearm surprised Chirrut, arresting his forward movement. Chirrut turned his head, tilting it inquisitively as Andri cleared their throat, their voice anxious. “No, Chirrut, he… You didn’t know?”  
  
Chirrut felt a ball of icesand coalesce suddenly in his stomach, shedding grainy crystals of dread into his blood. “Know?” His hand tightened on his staff and he brought it down with a sharp thwack to rest on the floor. “Know what, Andri?” Andri’s strained silence made Chirrut’s blood pressure rise, and he shook off their hand. “Tell me!”  
  
“He’s in the infirmary.” Andri’s voice was quiet, but the words cut through Chirrut’s composure like a knife through the skin of an iella fruit. He turned blindly, starting to walk slowly, his footsteps speeding up as Andri said, “Wait—Chirrut—“  
  
Their footsteps caught up, and Andri’s hand came to rest on Chirrut’s shoulder. Chirrut shook it off with a sharp movement, but Andri’s voice was persistent. “We can go together. Chirrut, you need to know—“  
  
Chirrut rounded on them, voice sharp, too loud. “Know? Know what? If he’s hurt, I can ask him what happened, he’ll tell me—“  
  
“Chirrut! Don’t, just—“ Andri took a slow breath, Chirrut’s nerves jangling painfully at the dragging intake of air, the agony of waiting for more as his fingers gripped his staff painfully hard. “The kyber he was using in his training lightbow—he’d been tinkering with it, alone, and when he engaged the connection…“ Chirrut swallowed. Baze was careful, he was always careful, he was always fine, he never got in trouble, _never—_ Andri’s voice was quiet. “He’s burned, Chirrut. His face, the energy went upward in a fireball. He’ll be bandaged, he, I don’t know—“  
  
Chirrut’s heart was pounding a staccato in his chest. He groped for his mantra, his balance yawing wildly as his brain fixated on the news. _I am one with the Force_ —Baze is hurt— _the Force is with me_ —a fireball— _I am_ —burned— _one with the Force_ —his eyes, his EYES— _And the Force is_ — _oh_ Force—  
  
Andri was still speaking but Chirrut couldn’t make sense of the words any longer. In a blur of sound and space he moved forward, his feet carrying him at a run toward the infirmary by sheer muscle memory alone. _Baze— Baze—_  
  
Chirrut’s hand slapping against the frame of the doorway jarred him back to himself and he didn’t even try to swallow his panting as he blurted, “Baze!”   
  
An adult—in his unsettled confusion Chirrut couldn’t be sure, but maybe Master Ieu?—approached him, clicking their teeth together in quiet scolding. “Trainee Îmwe. Master yourself and lower your volume or you will be removed.”   
  
Chirrut gulped. His heart was still pounding crazily, and Baze hadn’t answered—was he sulking, was he hurt, was he asleep, was he unconscious, was he dead— _he couldn’t be dead—_  
  
A hand snagged his elbow and Chirrut almost struck out in reflex, barely redirecting his energy into a wide flinch instead. “Chirrut,” Andri hissed, and Chirrut dropped his head with a thud to let his chin rest on his chest. Andri’s voice was artificially calm, thickly polite as they spoke. “Master Ieu, we’re here to visit our _duan_ -mate. May we talk with him?”  
  
Master Ieu sniffed huffily, mollified by Andri’s deference. “Trainee Malbus is undergoing bacta treatment right now. He won’t be done for a while, so you’ll have to come back—“  
  
“I’ll wait,” Chirrut blurted. His whole body was thrumming like a wire in the wind, but he couldn’t _leave._ Not… not when… If Baze was hurt that badly… He gulped at the feeling clogging his throat, jerking his head down in a rigid bow. “Please Master Ieu. I’ll be quiet. I’ll wait.”   
  
Andri’s fingers were firm on his arm; Master Ieu’s voice was still fussy but with a core of understanding. “Very well, Trainee Îmwe. Until he returns you may as well make yourself useful rolling bandages. Trainee Uetalla, will you stay as well?”  
  
Andri’s fingers squeezed Chirrut’s arm in a brief pressure of encouragement, then fell away as Andri spoke, head bowing like Chirrut’s. “I cannot, Master Ieu, I have class. But I will return later.” Chirrut felt a hand pat his back in support as Andri drew away, stepping out through the door.  
  
“Fine, yes, all right. Trainee Îmwe, sit here.” Chirrut felt his wrist taken by bony but firm fingers and allowed himself to be pulled over to a seat, his hand landing on a heap of clean strips of cloth. Master Ieu took one of his hands and plopped a taut roll of fabric into it, brushing his fingertips over the ends. “Start rolling these to the same size and shape as this. Be sure to tuck the ends in well so it doesn’t unroll.” Chirrut nodded and fumbled for the first bandage, spinning it tight in his fingertips to get a close roll from the very edge. Master Ieu made a sound of approval and turned away, returning to whatever they’d been working on in the infirmary when Chirrut had arrived.  
  
Rolling the bandages was mindless, but having something to do wth his hands soothed Chirrut, giving him time to think. _Baze is NOT dead. He wouldn’t be, couldn’t be. And they’re treating him with bacta, so he probably won’t even have a mark to show for it._ His hands twitched, groping for the next cloth, then winding it mindlessly but energetically. _Baze…_   
      
Chirrut felt a bubble of anger mingled with fear burst in his chest, and he breathed it out, wrapping more viciously than necessary to complete the bandage. _How could he be so stupid as to do something so unsafe!_ The thought was jarring, and after a few seconds Chirrut recognized why.   
      
Baze had said something almost identical to him when he’d rappelled down the western lower wall using several spare ropes he’d knotted together to make them long enough. Chirrut had been laughing, flush with his success, when Baze had caught up, grabbed his shoulders and all but shaken him. “How could you be so stupid, do something so reckless! What if something had gone wrong?”  
      
“But nothing did,” Chirrut had crowed, and Baze had made a drawn out aggravated groan from his chest and stomped away, leaving Chirrut to call, “Come on, Baze, it was just an adventure! Nothing would really happen—“  
      
Chirrut fell back into the present. _But this time something did. I didn’t pay for my risk; he did. It was all for fun. But what did it cost_ him?  
      
“Keep winding, Trainee Îmwe, make yourself useful,” Master Ieu’s voice cut across his immobility, and he dropped his chin and nodded silently, hands fumbling back into movement where they’d been paralyzed by thought. Master Ieu approached again and made a happy trill at the sight of the bandages Chirrut had heaped up already. “Almost done, and in good time.” His knobby fingers brushed past Chirrut’s carelessly, packing up the completed bandages into a tight fit in the box at Chirrut’s elbow. Master Ieu’s voice came again, and this time his tone was different, more thoughtful. “Trainee Malbus is demoralized by his experience, Trainee Îmwe. He made a mistake, and there were consequences.”  
      
“Permanent?” Chirrut’s voice croaked, startling himself. He tried to clear his throat and said hoarsely, “Will… are his eyes…?”  
      
Master Ieu sniffed, hands stilling. “His eyes are currently bandaged, but there is a good prognosis for recovery. You may be able to give him some pointers in not being-short sighted.” Master Ieu’s snorting laugh made Chirrut want to hit him, knock the casual acceptance of pain and damage out of his chortling mouth. Luckily Master Ieu moved away, saying, “Here he is now. Baze, you have a visitor.”  
      
Chirrut stood up so fast he whacked his leg against the table leg, jarring it upward and leaving what was sure to be a bruise later. He heard hesitant footsteps approaching slowly; the tread and weight was Baze’s, a second set walking beside him. _Leading him._ Chirrut’s chest ached, and for a moment he tried to put on a wide smile, a reassuring one, before he realized the pointlessness of the idea. _Baze can’t see it. Baze…_  
      
Baze’s tread moved past Chirrut, who was standing so still he was almost not breathing, his whole being focused on Baze. Bedclothes whispered as a body was lowered onto them, and Master Ieu said to Chirrut, “Not too long now, he needs to sleep post-bacta. Master Traah, how…”   
  
Master Ieu’s voice trailed off into the background as Chirrut approached the place he’d heard Baze sit. Baze still didn’t say anything, and Chirrut raised a hand to take his, then dropped it in sudden fear of aggravating his injuries. He licked his lips, then sat abruptly on the bed next to Baze, startling an _oof_ from him.  
      
“…Chirrut?” Baze’s voice was unsure, slightly muffled.   
      
Chirrut scooted closer on the bed, feeling worry clogging his throat, and had to try twice before his own voice emerged. “Hey,” he said weakly, then fell silent. He could feel when Baze relaxed, a tentative hand reaching out to brush against his arm. Chirrut’s hand was there before Baze could complete the motion, gripping, then letting go immediately as Baze made a low pained sound. Baze swallowed and tried to pass it off, brushing the unbandaged heel of his hand over Chirrut’s now-loose fingertips.  
      
“Are you sure it’s you?” Baze’s voice was warm, uncertain. “Usually I can’t get you to stop talking if I ask. Who knew it would be this easy. Just get a vacation in the infirmary for a few days and—“  
      
“ _Baze,_ ” Chirrut said, exasperated, and Baze laughed. He actually _laughed._   
  
Chirrut felt his anxiety pop like a bubble in the wind, hope and teasing and exasperation rushing to fill the sudden vacuum. He made his tone light but joking-serious. “Hey now, reckless and self-endangering are _my_ charming qualities. And what’s this, huh, this—“ he raised an extremely gentle hand to brush over the bandages on Baze’s face, Baze’s original flinch relaxing as Chirrut’s touch remained feather-light. “You trying to copy me here too? Was my fighting prowess finally starting to intimidate you? There are easier ways to go about this, you know. Strip of cloth over the eyes. Badly-made mask. Fighting in the dark of the kyber mines.”  
      
Baze’s body was shaking beside Chirrut’s leg, and Chirrut felt a flush of alarm. But when he dropped a worried hand to Baze’s chest the motion resolved as long chuckles of barely-repressed laughter. It may have been on the edge of hysterical, Chirrut couldn’t tell, so he quickly forged ahead, giving Baze a shove in his chest. “Extra lessons can be bought from me for the low low price of giving me your fruit bun at every meal—“  
      
“And who exactly _won_ our last match?” Baze’s voice was trembling with laughter, and at Chirrut’s exaggerated _harrumph_ he needled him back, “You should be paying me, with all I’m teaching you! Younger brother.” Chirrut groaned at the diminutive nickname, and Baze sighed, his humor leaking away but leaving both of them more relaxed. They sat in silence for a moment, until Baze assayed, “Chirrut?”  
      
“Yeah?”  
      
“…This sucks.”  
      
Chirrut couldn’t help his blurt of laughter. Baze made a _tch_ noise at him, and after a moment he restrained himself. “Yeah, I don’t recommend it long-term. It…” His fingers found Baze’s, grazing lightly over the unbandaged palm, delicately tracing his wrist as Chirrut dropped his chin. “At least it sounds like you won’t have to worry about that. With the bacta and all.” _Thank the Force,_ Chirrut’s heart whispered in his chest. All was as the Force willed it, but Baze didn’t deserve any hurt, not like this, not for a stupid mistake.   
      
“Yeah.” Baze sounded suddenly tired, and Chirrut shifted, moving out of the way as Baze eased himself down on the bed. Chirrut tugged the sheets out from beneath him and helped bring them up to cover Baze’s chest.   
      
The sound of the bandage muffling Baze’s mouth made him anxiously curious, and after hesitating for a heartbeat, Chirrut asked, “Can I… touch? To know…”  
      
Baze sighed. “It’s… it’s all wrapped, Chirrut. Forehead to neck. There’s a little slit for my mouth, but that’s all. I…” He lapsed into silence.  
      
Chirrut nodded, then spoke up, realizing again with a pang that Baze couldn’t see. His tone was light. “You’ll have to let me feel what your babyface feels like without eyebrows.”  
      
Baze snorted a laugh, and Chirrut socked him lightly in the shoulder. “It’s very important. I have to preserve that in my memory because it’s never happening again!”  
      
“Never?” Baze’s voice sounded amused.   
      
Chirrut’s heart turned over as he bent over and whispered emphatically, “Never. Because I’m keeping an eye on you from now on. Oh Baze, shut _up,_ ” he said as Baze started laughing in earnest, rolling his eyes at Baze’s tactless sense of humor even as a smile struggled its way across his mouth.   
      
At the sound Master Ieu bustled over, his voice strict but not unpleased. “Trainee Îmwe, that’s long enough. Trainee Malbus needs to sleep now to let the aftereffects of the bacta work. You can come back later.” He sniffed. “ _After_ your classes and meditation are complete, not before. If I find you skipping you won’t be welcome in my infirmary again.”   
      
Chirrut angled his head obediently even as he felt Baze elbow him gently in the ribs, fighting a laugh. “Yes, Master Ieu. Thank you.” Chirrut slid off the bed, standing easily as Master Ieu turned away. He turned to face Baze again, his voice light. “I’ll talk to you later, Baze.”  
      
Baze’s voice surprised Chirrut when it came again, strikingly different in its low uncertainty. “You… there’s nothing else you want to say? You don’t… you aren’t upset with me?”  
      
Chirrut’s heart clenched, and after a second’s hesitation he rested a flat palm in the center of Baze’s chest, leaning forward, his voice honest. “I’m upset that you got hurt over something stupid. But I am so, _so_ relieved that you’re going to be all right. Any other feelings I have…” He rubbed Baze’s chest once, then flicked his sternum with a finger. “I’ll take it out on you the next time we spar.”  
      
Baze’s snort sounded the most like himself of anything yet, Chirrut noted happily. “You can _try_. Dreamer.”  
      
“Young fool.” Chirrut was grinning now. “Sleep. I’ll see you soon.”  
      
“Bah.” Baze’s smile was apparent in his tone, as was his tiredness, and even before Chirrut left the infirmary his breathing had evened out into sleep.  
      
Chirrut paused in the doorway, bowing respectfully. “Thank you, Master Ieu. I’ll be back to visit when I can.”  
      
Master Ieu sounded unimpressed, but not unhappy to Chirrut’s ears. “I’m sure you will. I’ll be sure to prep more bandages for you to roll.” His trilling laugh followed Chirrut down the corridor.  
      
 _He’ll be able to see. He’ll be able to heal. He’s going to be all right._ Chirrut felt weak with relief, flushed with gratitude in the Force, hope blooming in his chest like the warmth of Jedha’s sun.   
      
It might not always be this way; Chirrut knew firsthand that there were at times wounds that would not heal; but for now Chirrut held on to that hope, his steps light as he moved in the will of the Force.  
  



End file.
